


Dead Heroes

by castielofasgard



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Battle of Crait, Gen, One Shot, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers, basically my take of what was going on in poe's head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 08:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielofasgard/pseuds/castielofasgard
Summary: The Battle of Crait was the kind of scrappy, reckless endeavor Poe thrived on. But recent events have left him gun-shy, and their terrible odds have begun to sow seeds of doubt.





	Dead Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this one-shot as a more eloquent argument aimed at those who would call poe's retreat on crait an out of character move. this is my attempt to show how, in light of the events of the movie, his actions make perfect sense (and are, in fact, character development). i'm totally down for discussion, so if you want to talk, leave a comment! (note: this is a strictly pro-TLJ zone, so if you're gonna come in here bashing the movie and demanding it stricken from canon, you will be thoroughly ignored)
> 
> my apologies for any inconsistencies in the sequence of events, i've only seen the movie three times so i don't remember exactly how the scene went lol

The rickety old speeder rattled around him as Poe flew it expertly over the salty plain. He hated this thing, he hated the idea of it, but he could still fly it damn well. A towering wall of walkers stood ahead of them, guarding the cannon that was their target, ready to obliterate the tiny fleet of ancient speeders hurtling toward them. Their odds were truly horrendous, but somehow, just for a moment, Poe felt unstoppable. This was just like any other dogfight, it didn’t matter that Black One was a bunch of flotsam drifting in space and he was stuck in this awful speeder. He’d take ‘em down just like he always had, his squadron by his side.

A crack formed in his usually impenetrable confidence as a swarm of TIEs rose from the First Order ranks, diving at the helpless speeders. Poe called out a warning and they scattered, for the moment focused more on dodging blaster fire than on their outmatched game of chicken. But the troops were resolute. They’d dodge, then beeline back into formation. Poe felt a swell of pride. 

A few speeders got shot down and another crack formed, threatening to grow as one of the TIEs tailed Rose. Then suddenly there were shots from above and the Millennium Falcon dove onto the scene. Poe let out a jubilant shout as the Falcon lured the fighters away, giving them a clear path toward the cannon once again.

The mouth of the cannon started to open. Their chance was approaching. The guns on these speeders weren’t great, but maybe, just maybe they could stop this thing. The First Order seemed to have figured this out too – forsaken by their fighters, the walkers began to open fire on the speeders. 

Poe flinched as the speeder to his right went down. He suddenly felt very exposed in the open cockpit. Another speeder went down, drawing his attention again. He’d always noticed when his squad mates got hit, perhaps not as sharply as he should have, but all of a sudden he was hyper aware of every blast that flew toward them, every speeder that blew up with a sickening crash of fire and metal. One by one their numbers were dwindling, numbers that were already dangerously low. 

His mind went to Leia, waiting in the bunker with what was left of the Resistance. How many more would be in that cave right now, or flying by his side, if he had listened to her before? They had lost so many soldiers bringing down the Dreadnaught. No, _he_ had lost them. Those pilots had died because _he_ ordered them out there, ordered them to stay in a fight that their general, their leader, had opposed. 

The final crack in his resolve split quick and deep. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lead more soldiers, more _friends_ on a suicide mission. He ordered the retreat.

For a moment he thought about ignoring his own order, letting everyone else return to safety and trying his damnedest to bring that thing down himself. He knew it would kill him, but wouldn’t that be a fair and fitting end after everything he’d done? But no. He knew better. He knew the others wouldn’t retreat if their commander was still flying into the jaws of death. So he turned tail, the sinking, unfamiliar weight of defeat settling in his chest. The others followed suit, peeling off and heading back to safety. But not all of them. Poe’s heart skipped a beat, then started racing double-time as he glanced back and saw Finn still flying toward the cannon. He tried to talk him down. Rose tried to talk him down. But Finn ignored them, or had turned off his comms. 

Poe brought his speeder to a screeching halt and leapt from the cockpit, running and diving feet first into the trench as the blast from the cannon stretched across the flats, hammering the door they’d once thought impenetrable. He peered back out over the wall, catching sight of Finn hurtling toward the cannon, feeling sick with guilt. He’d led Finn into trouble so many times in their short friendship, and now it seemed he’d led him to his death. He closed his eyes and turned away. He couldn’t watch. 

“Sir!” someone shouted, and Poe looked back up just as Rose’s speeder collided with Finn’s, sending both of them tumbling out of the cannon’s path. 

Poe swallowed hard. Sure, Finn hadn’t been incinerated by the cannon, but had he and Rose managed to survive the crash? 

“Comman- uh, Captain Dameron,” one of the soldiers said. “They’ve gotten through. We need to get inside.”

Poe tore his eyes away from the crashed speeders. They were too far away and shrouded in smoke to see if anyone had emerged from the wreckage. If Finn or Rose had survived, he’d be thrilled. But he’d let his heart command him too many times of late. He had a duty to the Resistance, to the people he knew were alive. People that were looking to him to keep them alive. Leia was right. Dead heroes can only do so much. It was time for him to step up. To lead.


End file.
